A/N Hey folks, I have another chapter. I'm guessing this isn't really to everyones taste because of the lack of reviews, but I like writing this so I'm going to keep posting chapters.

He had been walking for hours, but his feet didn't hurt. He had gotten past the point of feeling. Passing row upon row of houses, Grissom was beginning to think he'd forgotten where Iris had grown up. He'd been there every Friday evening to pick her little suitcase up, and every Sunday night to drop her off. That had happened every week for the four short years of her life. He hadn't been able to return since she had disappeared. It was too difficult for him. Too difficult for Maggie.

"Look, Daddy, I'm doing it! Mommy look!"

Gil and Maggie looked at their daughter with a mixture of pride and love. They were only just managing to be civil towards each other, but as soon as they saw Iris riding towards them on her new pink bicycle they both felt like hugging.

"Careful, Honey!" worry filled Gil's voice – she was his baby after all, and seeing her cycle in a wobbly way down the path was quite scary for him. But he was so proud – he had taught her to do that. He was finally starting to feel like a part of her life. Well, as much as Maggie would let him. She was always so hostile towards him, ever since she had found out she was pregnant. She seemed to have forgotten that it took two people to make a baby.

She had sped so fast past the little house in the Las Vegas suburbs, that the blue shutters on the windows had blurred. When she had veered onto the lawn out front, the violets had become uprooted out of their flower beds...

The blue shutters. The violets. This was the house. He had almost walked past it, but he was finally there.

'What are you going to do now?' he thought to himself. If he was honest, he had walked here on the spur of the moment and hadn't really decided. It was gone midnight and he was standing in the street looking up at the house where his lost daughter had lived. A long time ago, who knew what had changed since then. Did Maggie even live here still?

Suddenly, a light flicked on and illuminated one of the windows. The curtains twitched behind the glass. They weren't the ones he remembered, but he had last been here 13 years ago. Gil looked around, but for what he wasn't quite sure. He just tried not too look too suspicious, standing in the front yard of a random house.

The curtains fell back to their original position. A few seconds passed. Grissomturned away. He should leave, but he still felt something pulling him closer, telling him to stay. Here, he felt close to his daughter once again. Iris had been such a huge part of his life, he thought about her all of the time. But when she disappeared, he was left with a huge void. He still thought about her all the time, though. He wondered if her cheeky grin was still the same – if he saw her today, would it still be able to make him do anything for her? Thinking about how she may have never grinned like that again after she was snatched made a tear trickle down his cheek. Was it painful for her, whatever that monster did to her? He didn't really want to know, but he couldn't live the rest of his life not knowing whether his baby girl's last moments on this earth were painful ones. He had thought, perhaps foolishly, that she would be brought back to him. He had appeared on the news with Maggie numerous times, pleading for her safe return. Maybe whoever took Iris would see what her parents were going through and bring her back. At this point, he had even felt sorry for the person – they were obviously unstable, perhaps because they had lost their own little girl. But Gil had gone through the last thirteen years thinking 'perhaps'. He had long ago realised that his baby was dead. That the girl he had made had died, and that part of him had died also. But one thing he still felt very strong about, that hadn't changed over the years – he was responsible. At first people kept telling him that he was being ridiculous, that any parent would feel the same, but after a while people stopped talking about it. It became just another news story that was made headlines one day, and in a months time no one remembered about the little girl kidnapped from the park on her first day of school.

"Mr Grissom!"

"Please, Sir, tell us what was going through your mind when you realised your daughter had vanished?"

"Do you wish the person who did this was dead, Mr Grissom?"

Questions were being fired at him from every direction. Microphones were held under his mouth, and one almost up his nose. Flashes from cameras came one after another, relentless and blinding.

"Just keep walking, Gil," Jim Brass whispered into his ear. They had been working together for about 5 years, since Iris was born, when he transferred to Vegas from New Jersey. His hand gripped Grissom's arm, and the two pushed their way through the crowd.

He had always hated being the centre of attention, so this was like a living nightmare for him. This whole week had been like that. And now he was being treated like a suspect.

"Did you do it, Mr Grissom?" Another reporter shouted to him.

"Don't be silly! How could I hurt my daughter?!"

This statement from the man who had previously remained so tight-lipped had caused uproar amongst the waiting journalists. At last, their patience had paid off.

Walking out of that police station knowing his colleagues were satisfied he was innocent was an overwhelming feeling for Gil. But he felt even worse knowing the police had just wasted time questioning him when they should be out searching for the real perpetrator. Now he empathised with the victim's families that he had dealt with over the years.

"Gil?"

He whipped round, and saw Maggie, standing on her doorstep in her dressing gown. Her hair was dishevelled and she looked tired. He guessed she hadn't been sleeping either.

"Hi, Maggie."

"What are you doing here? How did you know I still lived here?"

"I didn't. Althought now I think you probably didn't want to leave Iris' room, right?"

Maggie looked at him, and thougth about going back inside and leaving him out here on his own. But instead she did something neither of them ever thought would happen.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Daddy, can I have more maple syrup on my pancakes?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

"Not too much, I already pay the dentist too much. He doesn't need another vacation home." Maggie had to have her two cents on everything. That was something Gil had learnt when it came to choosing Iris' name.

They were sat around the breakfast table in Maggie's blue and yellow kitchen, the three of them with a stack of pancakes on the table. This was one of the few times Gil had been allowed over enemy lines. So far, it wasn't going too badly.

"Are you looking forward to starting school next week?" He asked his daughter

"Uh...Yeah, I think so. Have you seen my new shoes?"

The little girl stuck her feet out from underneath the table, to show her father the new black shoes with buckles that her mother had insisted she wear in now, rather than get blisters on her first day. Her mother, who was now pouring coffee out of the glass jug of her coffee maker, and into Gil's yellow mug with blue stripes.

"Coffee?" she asked him as they entered the same kitchen they had been in thirteen years and one week ago. It wasn't yellow and blue anymore, but a light shade of green with leaves stencilled around the top of the walls. The surprised him – when they were younger, Maggie had always wanted the kind of kitchen that was photographed in Beautiful Homes magazine – all sleek stainless steel counters and black accessories. This kitchen was more like the one his grandmother had had in Tennessee.

"Yes please."

She started to make it, only this time in a different coffee maker – she had thrown the last one at Gil when he tried to persuade her one last time that he had been careful, had been watching their baby.

When it was brewed, she poured it into mugs for the both of them. He noted that they were the same ones she had thirteen years ago. As Maggie opened the fridge to retrieve a bottle of milk, he saw that there were still drawings, held on by magnets, that Iris had done with crayons and another done with finger paints.

Having sat silently drinking coffee together, both amazed that they hadn't started fighting, Maggie suddenly broke the silence.

"Every anniversary, I get a phone call."

Grissom looked up, wondering what she was talking about. Maggie continued.

"I never really thought much of it – just a few seconds of silence, then they hung up – but the last 3 years, well...they've been saying stuff."

"What kind of 'stuff'?"

"Mostly just, 'I'm sorry' but sometimes...No, it's nothing."

"No, go on."

"They say how beautiful she is. Like she's still here. That's such a sick joke."

"Yes...That all they say?"

"Yeah, but one time there was a lot of background noise, like they were in a casino or something."

"How odd. Every year?"

"Every year. And today, I got this."

She got up, and walked over to a pile of mail on the counter next to the toaster. Rummaging through it, she found what she was looking for and put it down on the table in front of him. It was a news article written the day after Iris went missing, and read: 'Girl, age 5, missing from West Las Vegas.' Below it was a press cutting from a newspaper, that was headed: 'Women's volleyball team win 7 games in High School championships', and a short article about the tournament and the teens involved. Both were pasted on to a sheet of paper, and stuffed in an envelope.

"Mind is I take this back to the lab? See if I can make anything of it?" Gil asked eventually. This had left him bewildered – did someone know something about his daughter after all this time?

"Sure. If you find something, will you call?"

"Of course."

Grissom left and began the long walk back to the lab, news cuttings in hand, still trying to make something of them. He found himself drawn to the article about volleyball. It was put there for a reason. Perhaps whoever had taken her had buried her body somewhere in the school grounds. Or they were a volleyball player or coach. Or perhaps...Perhaps Iris was really alive, and she had competed in the tournament?